


Chivalry

by aeinlookalike



Category: Fire Emblem: If | Fire Emblem: Fates
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-15
Updated: 2018-04-15
Packaged: 2019-04-23 11:00:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14331048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aeinlookalike/pseuds/aeinlookalike
Summary: a fate/stay night crossover with ryomarx





	Chivalry

**Author's Note:**

> this probably doesn't make sense to anyone but me and my girlfriend 
> 
> and i could talk forever about this crossover honestly but the basic gist of this is: xander as rider in the war, ryoma is his master, xander died in a birthright route and wants his wish to be fulfilled (ie. elise revived, revenge on hoshido)  
> but of all freakin people, he had to be summoned to ryoma like "GODS," cue tension and closed off cold front 
> 
> but for this one prompt, xander basically just got out of fighting 'saber' which is ryoma's descendant and looks exactly like him and they Fuckt Up, ryoma figured out their history together and is confronting him
> 
> what's neat tho is my gf actually drew both their fate versions so at least we got that going for this au https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/381235480286593024/427247835512176661/unknown.png  
> but i am so sorry if you read this and dont know wtf is going on, there is so much underlying stuff we went over that wouldn't make sense to anyone else but just know this au seemed like a good idea at the time ok (aND IT STILL IS, IT JUST NEEDS CONTEXT)

“Do you detest me?”

There’s no other sound from the two and Rider looks up from where he’s leaning against the door leading to the patio. Save the breeze of the winds, there is nothing else in place between them.

Again, Ryoma repeats himself. “Am I that hateful to you?”

Rider gives a small shrug from his crossed arms, inclining his head in an almost mocking gesture at the other. “I don’t know, Master. Are you?”

“Rider,” he says quietly. “I know of your history.”

“Do you?” His heart, if he could still have one, would beat rapidly. His nerves, if he still had them, would rush in his veins. 

However, Rider is not human. The only things he can ascertain for himself here and now are his present feelings and he’s killed them long ago. The only thing human about him would be his appearance, he could argue.

Alas, investment into a certain family, a certain man for the matter; had shown that fact to be rather difficult to prove as time went by, but he can only blame himself.

“Your fight with Saber…”

Fine, he had known this would come up. Still, the memories associated with that battle is dull and bitter regardless, the cowardly retreat stinging in his mind. “What of it?”

Ryoma turns to him cautiously. “You’ve always been a careful sort, Rider. You should have known that we were outmatched for them. Why didn’t you flee right away?”

What he said made sense. Ryoma was not wrong. Indeed, Rider always did put logics and tactics over a show of force whenever possible, even if he understood he could not always do just that. However, the way Ryoma looks at him, the way his eyes flashed painfully in the darkness, it is enough to know his question is not a thoughtless one. “If you’re asking me this question, you know exactly why, Master.”

“Crown Prince of Nohr.”

The only thing to move still is the breeze that picks up, but if one were to glance at Rider, they would see he’s gripped his hands around his arms tighter and he has a disgusted grimace on his face, but it quickly vanishes. “I see. Attended to your readings, have you?”

“Xander.” Maybe it should have been obvious the first time he had let loose his noble phantasm. The first and only time he had used that particular one in defense of his Master. The crest would be memorable to anyone who should know it. Rider had long ago erased any identifiable symbol of his, not to leave the past behind, but to erase the weakness it would leave. If he had the choice, he would have worn his country’s symbol with pride on the very armor that stands with him still. Saber was not him though, he had thought himself above such weaknesses and wore his symbol proudly, the fool. His hands tighten, as does his chest somehow. Ah, Rider, he thinks to himself, you’ve made a grave mistake, haven’t you? He’s almost admitted to being human and thinking just like one.

“What of my title? Of my name?” There's a dismissive flick of his wrist.

Ryoma hesitates, as if unsure where to start. “Your history, I know that your kingdom was once great and at constant war with—“

Before he can continue, Rider interrupts him rather rudely. If anything, he didn’t wish to live through the text again. “Minor details.”

“What really happened?”

“What do you mean?” There’s a casual shrug, along with an exasperated expression, as if it didn’t bother him much, as if it wasn’t a thing in history that happened to him in another lifetime. “I lost. It’s as simple as that, is it not?”

Ryoma’s next answer is carefully worded, something Rider did not expect at all, even if he knew what was coming. “The records write you, your family, and the kingdom as cold and brutal with only obliteration and domination at the very heart of everyone inside the land. That your sister died by... your own hands.”

“As the saying goes,” Rider laughs dryly. He’s already heard all this before, in even worse words really. “To the victors, the spoils of war and history.”

“Yes. That’s true. Whether you lost or not though, the descriptions are far from the truth as I can see.”

“And who are you to judge that, Master?”

“By seeing you, Rider.”

He had thought this unfair at first. Summoned by a Master to him of all people. Being witness to his history again, something he had to bear with regret so long ago. The mirror image of his descendant staring Rider down, before leaving him to die alone and his homeland was razed. As he died, leaving a regretful farewell, how Rider wished he could be the one on the other end of the blade. He wasn’t at fault. He hadn’t chosen this life. Nobody deserved to die, especially not her. Why then, did she?

Why then, did fate make him suffer even more in place even after he had died? Why was it that Hoshidan crest that haunted him so as he had been summoned here? Why was it Ryoma? Fate is cruel and ironic, Rider should have figured that out a long time ago.

“I’m sorry.”

It takes a few seconds for Rider to respond properly. “Pardon?”

“I know I cannot apologize enough for all the wrong doings we have done to you and your family.” Ryoma’s tone is remorseful, which perhaps, makes this even worse.

There’s quiet for a few moments before Rider answers flatly to reject it. “It’s not you that I despise, nor is it your apology that I need.”

“Perhaps so, but I apologize all the same.”

There’s an intense glare from Rider in the night’s quiet. “Don’t pity me.”

“I don’t.” Ryoma only sounds calm.

“Do you?”

“I’ve seen the man you are, Rider. Pity isn’t what you want or need and I would not wrong you like that.”

There’s a stunned silence in the gloom as Ryoma looks at Rider with honesty clear in his eyes and its those very eyes he despises. Except… he doesn’t. It’s the conviction there he can’t bring himself to hate, no matter how many times Rider has tried to. No amount of persuasion from himself, about the injustice he had bore from his past life, whatever little he remembered of it, made it through. He doesn’t bring up the fact that while his past memories had never resurfaced much, he doesn’t wish to see that they’ve been replaced by ‘better’ and happier memories with the same man he serves.

And something in him aches.

“I don’t hate you.” It's said more honestly this time and in fact, it’s not a lie. Rider didn’t dislike Ryoma. He never actually hated him at all. He’s always known that. Something in him wavers just then. Something he had resolved on the day he had died.

“I see.” He detects slight relief and Rider could almost laugh at the underlying emotion there.

 _‘Rider,’_ one Master had told him once. _‘You seem like a good man. Chivalrous and honest.’_ He had never bothered to correct her. Valiant he may be in persona, but should his wish be exposed, he knows that it would prove everything he is not. _‘I know that whatever you have done to be here, it does not change my opinion on you.’_ She had always been one of the dense ones. _‘Fundamentally good people like you… may have no choice but to do horrific things under unfortunate circumstances.’_

He still remembers how she died. 

It had been his fault, but really, she had been naive from the very start. What a messy and sentimental ending for them both. She had thought him human as much as she and failed to come to terms he was not. That wouldn’t happen here. Not if Rider could help it.

Ryoma asks quietly, “What is your wish?” Rider glances at him, brow raised. “Is it to bring back your sister? Your family? Your history?”

If only it was as simple as that. “Who can say?”

“Just know I’ll stand by you for it then. Whatever it is.” There’s a gentle smile and Rider looks away, gauntlets tightening even more. Did he truly have no shame? How could he admit to that so easily? Think he knew him from just a textbook? He knew nothing.

Ryoma is a potent Master. Although he himself could not control the uses of mana as a mage, he could hold his own, sustain Rider sufficiently enough and be his chance at winning. In that sole factor, he had deigned to stay with Ryoma, be his shield, use him, and in this relationship, at the end, once the war was won and he had the Holy Grail, he would end his past regrets and revenge would at last, be his. Ryoma was his only hope to achieving that goal. Ironic, as fate would always continually prove. Perhaps he needs a reminder of these facts. “Master.”

“Ryoma.” There’s another silence that borders on shock from Rider at the interruption and there’s a small smile in response. “Call me Ryoma. It’s perhaps only fair after I’ve revealed your name and history against your wishes.”

“R-Ryoma.” The name felt weird on his tongue, but not unpleasant. Still though, Rider mocks it, wards away the foreign name unused to his blood as it makes his next words easier to say. “Servants are just tools for your goals. We are nothing more. Do not forget that.”

With that, Rider dissipates into the darkness, leaving a very somber night behind along with a curious Master.


End file.
